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Test Pilot
"Missing?" I demanded of Saori. "What do you mean by 'missing'?" Patiently, she said, "They're not here. I don't know what you expected that I meant." I leaped to my paws. "Daisyheart can't be out in Twolegplace alone." "I'm guessing Ren's with her." "Where would they have gone?" "To get food?" suggested Saori with an annoying calmness in her tone. "What kind of food do you have here? All I smell is crow-food and rats," I said rather rudely. She rolled her eyes at me. "We could stand here bickering, or we could track down my idiot brother and your ditsy friend." Snarling, I said, "Watch it. She's not a a ditz." Shrugging unaffectedly, Saori said, "Coming or not?" We bolted down the fire escape. "Where did they go?" I scented the air, but immediately started choking on the acidic fumes. "How are you supposed to track anyone if the entire place reeks?" Eyeing me pityingly, Saori put her nose to the ground and flicked her tail. "This way." My pride was distinctly smudged at the fact that a nonClan cat had picked up a trail that I hadn't noticed at all, but finding Daisyheart was more important. I trotted after Saori. - - - - To Ren's surprise, they managed to get something accomplished before they ran into trouble. First, they met up with Thompkins, an elderly gray tom who all the other strays hated because he didn't mind begging Twolegs for scraps. The other cats could hate him all they wanted; the fact remained that Thompkins was plump, well-fed, and never got kicked or cussed at by Twolegs. He lived a fairly happy life in his little den, just outside a Twoleg's food shop. His motto was basically "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em". And so he happily joined--or at least, made peace with--the Twolegs. Thompkins was a genuinely nice cat, something that was really hard to find out here, and only too pleased to help Daisyheart. He listened to all her mother's symptoms, and then told her where to find the nearest Cutter's office--a Cutter that would actually help. "I had a tumor, and they took it out. They were so nice to me in there, I almost regretted running away and returning to the streets," Thompkins told her. "What's a tumor?" Daisyheart said, blinking. Before Thompkins could launch into one of his winded stories about the "good ol' days", Ren had guided her away, in a hurry to get back to the fire escape before danger found them. As they were leaving, Thompkins had called out most unnecessarily, "You two make a very cute couple!" Ren hadn't responded, but he'd stubbed his toe on a rock and swore very loudly. Daisyheart had laughed at that. She had a nice laugh. Moving on... Right. So. Trouble. They were halfway back to the fire escape when it happened. The group of cats from the Red Arena that they'd seen earlier came trotting towards them. It was a straight alleyway with no corners. There was nowhere to run or hide. Ren moved to stand in front of Daisyheart, who promptly pushed him aside and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him. "You two. Follow us," said the lead she-cat, a grizzled orange tabby with a fresh scratch on her shoulder and a kink in her scrawny tail. "Why?" challenged Ren, trying to keep the rebellious tone out of his voice. He couldn't anger them too much, or they'd shred him on the spot. "Because it's a slow day at the Red Arena, and we want fighters and an audience. So you either come with us, or we kill you right here. Might as well have a little fun if you're gonna get hurt today," sneered the she-cat. "Listen up, Darcy, you birdbrained bully-" "Ren. Are you two coming with us or not?" Darcy examined her claws lazily. "Because I'd hate to see your gorgeous friend there get hurt. Why are you with her, anyway? Did your sister finally ditch you for one of her tom flings, so you decided to string this one along to get even?" Hearing Darcy talk about Daisyheart like that made Ren want to cheerfully knock her head off her shoulder, but he knew he didn't stand a chance. Not with three of Darcy's cronies, Albert, Fog, and Crook (the ugly cat with only one ear and the huge pink scar on his face) standing beside her, ready to back her up. But going to the Red Arena was a death sentence. He had an awful feeling they weren't going to make it out safe and sound. Still, what choice did he have? At least it would buy him some time. Nodding at Darcy, he said, "Okay. We'll come with you." The cats weren't kidding about their destination. Five minutes later, Daisyheart and Ren found themselves padding into the Red Arena. It was a dirty pit, in a square-shaped clearing surrounded by ramshackle Twoleg dens that all looked ready to fall apart. Ren knew a lot of fighting cats lived in the dens, getting in and out through the gaping holes in the wood, or through broken windows. The circle of tough-looking cats who perpetually hung around went through every effort to get in their way. One especially rude tom bumped into Ren so swiftly that he fell backwards into a pothole full of sludge. Swearing angrily and dripping in gunk and humiliation, Ren got up and shook himself off. "Oops. Watch it, Randy," reprimanded Darcy, her warning somewhat dampened by the gleeful expression on her face. Ducking her head, Daisyheart whispered, "Are you okay?" "I'm fine," snapped Ren curtly. She recoiled, and he immediately felt a twinge of guilt--but he didn't need her pitying him. That would only make him feel like more of a fool. "Fresh meat?" growled a menacing voice. Ren raised his head and immediately wished he hadn't. The cat in front of him (well... he thought it was a cat, though it might have been some variety of small wild boar) was enough to make anyone turn tail and run. Running wasn't an option, but Ren still felt like he would melt of fright. "Fresh meat, Carson," affirmed Darcy. Carson. Well, that makes sense. He's as big as a car. Ren whispered this to Daisyheart, but she only gazed at him in confusion. He guessed that the Clan cats only referred to cars as monsters. "Put them on the side." Carson spat on the ground. "I'll be ready in a few minutes." He resumed eating a raw steak from the ground. "I'm going to be sick," muttered Daisyheart as they joined the crowd of leering bystanders. Racking his head for something reassuring to say, all Ren could come up with was, "Maybe he'll become sick from eating that entire hunk of meat, and we won't have to fight him." No sooner had the words left his mouth than Carson was getting up and strutting towards him. The closer he got, the more Ren wanted to just disappear. He doubted he'd ever be able to wrap his mind around how enormous Carson was; the cat was almost an entire head taller than him, and a head and a half taller than Daisyheart. "Carson, you've already got a fight scheduled-" began Randy, but he faltered at the glare Carson aimed at him. "I know that," growled Carson. His eyes, squinty and swollen, with an angry red gash slashed across the brow of one, fixated on Ren. "But I want to have a little fun first." Just as Ren was imagining Saori's reaction to learning that he was dead, and mentally planning his own vigil and burial, Carson turned away from him. Not that he was keen on admitting it, but Ren literally sagged with relief... ... and the Carson closed his jaws around the scruff of Daisyheart's neck, dragging her out into the middle of the arena. Ren's first thought was, Not Daisyheart! His second thought was to realize that if anything happened to the cream she-cat, Breezeflight would murder him. But what could he do? It would take ten cats to bring down Carson. Pushing Daisyheart onto the ground, Carson growled, "Now, the wimp I was supposed to fight today didn't show up. While we're waiting for some loser to get enough guts to take his place, I thought I'd give a little demonstration. A demonstration of what happens when stupid know-it-all Clan cats intefere in our everyday lives. When those wild, ignorant buffons invade our space." Ren could practically feel the bloodthirstiness in the air as the crowd pushed forward, eager to see the "demonstration". He flexed his claws, digging them into the ground. Daisyheart raised her head for a second, and he caught a glimpse of her hazel eyes. They weren't so gentle anymore. Suddenly, he realized something. Carson had made one little mistake. He ''wasn't ''dealing with an ignorant buffoon. There was a reason SpringClanners called themselves warriors. With a piercing battlecry, Daisyheart rolled out from under the giant timber-colored tom's feet. She swiped her claws across his face. A few cats let out shocked gasps as Carson's blood spattered them. "If it's a fight you want, you're getting a fight. Not a demonstration," hissed Daisyheart. Between him and Saori, Ren had always been the level-headed one. His sister was definitely smart, but she didn't always apply her brain. She lived her life in a fast-paced river, torrential and powerful. Her many flames and flings could end up where they wanted to get, or they could end up miles away, swept along by her current with no memory of how they got there. Too often, Ren had seen toms get hurt by her. They were unable to understand why she was the way she was, so easily able to discard a relationship once she outgrew it. Fact of the matter was, Saori had been that way ever since... ever since the incident. Not Ren. Ren wasn't prone to feather-brained, impulsive actions. Saori was constantly teasing him about his thoughtful, meditative outlook on life. "Fancy yourself a philosopher, huh?" she'd ask, a twinkle gleaming in her gray eyes. A part of him wished she was there, at that very moment, to see her philosphical brother throw himself onto the biggest cat on the streets like he was attempting to ride him. The crowd went wild. And not because they thought two-against-one was unfair or anything. Yes, the cats of the Red Arena appreciated Carson--but that was in the vilest sense; they only appreciated him because the carnage he unleashed was entertaining to watch. And Ren's dramatic entrance into the fight? More entertainment. Cats yowled encouragement to both sides, bloodlust hanging in the air like a heavy curtain.